SUMMARY: Maybe being normal drove her insane...
Third in the Cry of Orphans series.
RATED PG-13
GENRE: Angst! Angst! And more angst! Did I mention Angst?
SPOILERS: None. This is a Future-Fic
DISTRIBUTION: I'd rather this is not distributed anywhere without my permission. I'll put it where I want it. But you're still welcome to contact me and try to convince me that my story should be in your fine archive.
This one's for Liv, for listening to me ramble and for so willingly betaing after midnight.
TEARS OF ORPHANS
by Aliasscape
Copyright 2003
No one was happy to see her.
This was no surprise. She'd have found that even more difficult to take. They had all found it much easier to toss around rumors in her absence.
"She's a traitor."
Or for those who couldn't believe that.
"She's dead."
To have her there to deal with was just overwhelming. So they had to protect themselves with metal and glass. She held the semblance of a grin as she was walked into the glass cage that had once contained her mother. If there was anything she had learned all those years ago, it was that metal and glass were nowhere near as powerful as history. And she had history with nearly every one here. She may be the one behind glass, but they were all her prisoners.
She was so familiar with the cell that it almost made her feel comfortable. She used to come here when she felt the need to be close to her mother. It was odd how she could feel more at home in a cell than she had in her last decade of freedom. Not that it had ever truly felt like freedom.
Her father's visit she had expected. But she was pleasantly surprised by her second guest. Even more surprised that he was wearing a suit. He had the inquisitive look he'd almost always had back when he was a reporter. Then, after he'd stared at her a moment, his face faded into a look of contrition.
"I'm sorry," he said, shaking his head.
Her eyebrow arched.
"You tried to tell me. I should have seen it--this...coming." He sunk into the chair outside the cell.
"Don't, Will."
Will frowned. "Look at where you are, Sydney!"
She flinched at her name. She didn't have to look. She was familiar with the cell. And maybe, after the things she'd done, the person she'd become, she deserved to be in it.
"And Taryn--"
"This isn't about Taryn," Sydney interjected.
Will looked confused. "But I heard, about you...You went to the park."
"I went to the park to see her. I'm not here because of her."
Will looked down. "At least, you've seen her."
Sydney looked at him, expectantly. "Why are you here, Will?"
Will nodded slowly, knowing he was supposed to change the subject but not ready to. Softly, he said, "She's amazing."
"I'm sure she is," Sydney said, coldly.
"When I heard about you, in the park, I remembered those times we used to spend in the park," Will stated. He swallowed. "Before."
Sydney turned away from the glass. There was a time when she could have told him anything.
"I'm pregnant, Will."
"Seriously? Wow, Syd, that's so wonder--it is wonderful, isn't it? Are you okay? Doesn't Vaughn want--"
"Of course he does. He's thrilled."
"And you, how do you feel?"
"So far, all it's done is make me sick. But I'm sure once I get over that in a couple months, I'll be thrilled too."
But she wasn't. She fell into the routine of pregnancy rather than the thrill. She took the vitamins, went to the checkups, read the books, watched the videos. But deep inside it always felt so surreal. She would have dreams that she wasn't pregnant, only to wake up and see her own belly. But it still didn't seem like the bulge was truly going to become a brand new person. Vaughn spoke to her stomach, read to it, sang to it. She didn't protest. He enjoyed it so much. But she didn't join in either.
She had found it uncomfortable, even embarrassing, to have complete strangers come up to her and touch her stomach. They'd ask how far along she was, how she was feeling, what she was having, and what she was going to name it.
"Do you want to know the gender of the baby?" the doctor asked, with a secretive smile.
"No, that's okay," Sydney responded.
Vaughn wrinkled his brow in confusion. "We've been calling the baby an "it" for months." He gave her a pleading look.
She forced a smile and nodded to the doctor. "Okay," she whispered. The exact same "okay" she'd whispered to Vaughn when she'd agreed to have a baby.
The doctor smiled wider. "Alright, you can start calling it, a her. Looks like you're having a very healthy little girl."
A healthy little girl determined to kick her way out, Sydney soon realized.
Armed with a gender, Vaughn helped her finish decorating the nursery and began to assail her with two new name options a day. A name seemed impossible to choose for a person that didn't quite exist yet.
"Sydney, please. You've said 'maybe' to nearly every name. You need to think more seriously about this!"
"I have three months to go, Michael. We don't have to name it right this second."
Vaughn stared at her and frowned. "Name her," he corrected. "Name her."
She had consciously realized her mistake. She hated how upset he had looked and made an effort never to call the baby "it" again. The bulge was a her now. Vaughn wouldn't have it called anything else.
Sydney got used to being tired all the time, to being hungry all the time. She wasn't sure if it was the supposed joy of motherhood masking the discomfort, or if a decade as a spy allowed her to handle it in the mindset of short term torture.
There were things she liked about being pregnant. Mostly the way Vaughn did his best to find ways to make her still feel loved, appreciated, beautiful. Surprise flowers, dinners, massages. More than anything she loved the way he looked at her. She'd be reading, or cooking, or exercising and catch him just staring at her in a way he never had before. Apparently the way a man stared at a woman who was about to be the mother of his first child. It was look of love and wonder. Often she'd abandon what she was doing and crawl into his arms. They would always have the same conversation.
"Tell me this is all going to be alright."
"It's going to be perfect," he assured her.
If he had been able to convince her, then maybe she would have been able to stop asking.
The baby came almost three weeks early. They'd thought it was another false alarm. They'd already had two which had sent them promptly to the hospital. They waited to see if the contractions would go away but they didn't. The doctors were unconcerned.
"Three weeks isn't really that early. She weighs enough to be out of any real danger."
But three weeks definitely seemed early for Sydney. She'd expected to be confined to bed rest, or to undergo some kind of procedure to bring the whole thing to a halt for a couple of weeks. Anything to give her more time to prepare. Instead, she found motherhood began with pain and exhaustion and terror.
The labor finally ended, but she lived a lifetime in a near two minutes that the baby didn't cry. Two minutes in which she undecorated a baby's room to bare white walls. Two minutes in which she mailed back gifts. Threw away toys. Stood at a grave over a short white casket and convinced herself that it was for the best. That she wasn't ready. That she wouldn't have been good at parenthood. That the world was a horrible and dangerous place and raising a child in this day and age wouldn't have been a good idea anyway.
It had melted away at the sudden weak cry. Vaughn squeezed her hand in excitement as the doctor approached. She could barely sit up to look at it. So tiny and so upset. The doctor moved to place it in her arms but the terror of previous two minutes had sucked out the only energy she'd had left. She waved a hand in Vaughn's direction and he took the baby, who quieted at the sound of his voice. Sydney laid back and closed her eyes. She fell asleep to Vaughn's voice whispering.
"Sydney, she looks so much like you."
She held her daughter for the first time when she woke up. She expected to be filled with joy by holding her. Instead, she felt frightened. Was she holding her right? The baby protested at first, as if she wasn't. Even when she quieted, nothing about it had felt right. It was like holding anyone's baby. Wasn't it supposed to feel new and different and wonderful? Wasn't meeting her own daughter for the first time face-to-face supposed to be a joyous occasion?
She didn't feel joy. She felt empty.
A three-day hospital stay didn't seem long enough when the baby had been born three weeks early. Sydney slept most of the days away, waking to eat, to have a nurse direct her in breast-feeding, to greet visitors. Weiss, Will, her father. They all couldn't wait to hold the baby. She couldn't wait to hand her over.
They held her with such ease. She'd felt as though she might break her somehow and couldn't relax as long as the baby was in her arms. She wondered if anyone would notice something strange. About her. About the baby. But they only had one question beyond health inquiries.
"What's her name?"
She let Vaughn answer, just as she had let him name the baby. "Taryn. It means young soldier."
He said it with such pride every time. Why didn't she feel that pride?
Sydney felt uneasy about going home. Maybe it was nerves over putting a baby in something as deathly as a car. But the unease turned to a sense of dread as they pulled into the driveway of their house. Vaughn insisted he carry the baby carrier into the house. She didn't mind. She felt too drained to carry anything, let alone the baby. She went straight to bed, but barely got more than an hour's sleep before Vaughn woke her to inform her Taryn was hungry.
Over the next couple days, everything seemed to become increasingly difficult. All she wanted to do was sleep but the baby demanded so much attention, and would hardly sleep an hour at a time. Taryn fussed when Sydney held her and fought against being breast-fed. What hospital nurses and books claimed was a wonderful bonding experience, seemed to be the most stressful part of her day. They had no choice but to go to a doctor for advice. Sydney spoke with him privately for a while, wondering if there was something wrong with Taryn.
"There's nothing wrong with this baby."
The doctor said he could offer her booklets, that she could try putting breast milk in bottles, and to keep trying. She asked him to recommend a formula. They picked up bottles and formula on the way home. Immediately after returning, Vaughn started trying to get Taryn to take a bottle. She wasn't sure how long it took him, she went back to sleep.
When Taryn awoke in the middle of the night, he was up immediately to feed her. Sydney would wake up, but she wouldn't move at all. Vaughn didn't try to rouse her or ever mention it was her turn. Once in awhile she would get up and check on them. He looked so pleased to have some alone time with Taryn. He always seemed so in tune with the baby. Taryn's cries would jar Sydney's nerves but Vaughn would calmly assess the situation as the baby being too hot, or too cold or something else that was easily taken care of. He was normally correct.
All Sydney could wonder was what was wrong with her. She was supposed to be this child's mother and she couldn't read her baby at all. She felt useless around it. Taryn would continue to fuss when she responded to the baby's cries for affection. Sydney got used to Vaughn rescuing her, taking Taryn into his arms and quieting her in only a few seconds. But then Vaughn would look at her as if he knew something was wrong.
"Are you alright, Syd?"
His face was so concerned and his voice was always so sincere. She couldn't bear to pain him by complaining about his little princess. If there wasn't anything wrong with the baby, there had to be something wrong with her instead. She went to the doctor and tried to explain her concerns. She tried to describe the feeling of being worried constantly that something was terribly wrong with her or Taryn, or that she was doing something she shouldn't.
"It's natural to worry, but this is the healthiest baby I've examined all day. How's your husband been reacting? Anything changed between you two?"
Sydney had no reason to complain. He'd taken to fatherhood quite naturally. She was thankful for that even though it made her feel worse. He knew she needed regular breaks from Taryn and was more than happy to take the baby with him on errands. He never complained about how often she passed off the excuse of being too tired to do something for Taryn. His first real protest came six weeks later.
"You want to go back to work now?!"
"Summer sessions starting. You have plenty of leave left. I need to get out of this house."
Or so she had thought. Going back to work was supposed to be an escape, even if she had taken along a recent family photo for the desk in her office. Still, no one at work was going to let her forget she'd just had a baby. There were demands for more pictures. Some sympathy for sleepless nights. Some scrutiny that she was back so soon and wasn't breast-feeding. Some jealousy that Vaughn was so helpful with the baby. Anytime she was truly attempting to focus, her thoughts were immediately brought back to something about Taryn. As she neared the end of the week, she wanted to scream every time someone asked her how she was or how the baby was or what it felt like to finally be a mother.
She didn't feel like a mother. She barely felt anything at all.
She told Vaughn that it had simply been too soon and she was still too tired. Going back to bed seemed to be the only defense she had. She would lie there and pretend to be asleep if anyone checked on her. But actually sleeping brought little comfort. She was plagued by recurring dreams she had died in the delivery room. Dreams Taryn had died in the delivery room. She thought about talking to Vaughn, but she knew she was already worrying him. She didn't want to make it worse. Besides, he had Taryn to worry about.
For him, she kept making an effort. Taking care of Taryn had a routine as well. She knew it both surprised and pleased him to have her handle some of Taryn's needs. Sometimes she could even fool herself into thinking she was okay while she did so. One thing she particularly liked was getting Taryn in the stroller and taking her for a walk to a nearby park. Taryn usually fell asleep on the way. Sydney would take a seat on a bench and observe the other mothers with their children, wondering if she could somehow learn from watching them.
It was a ridiculous thought that she wanted to call up her mother and ask for advice. Ask her what the first three months of being a mother were supposed to feel like and what she had been like as a baby. Had she been anywhere near as fussy and demanding as Taryn? And if so, how had her own mother been able to handle it? At the same time, how could she possibly trust her mother's advice? She'd hardly been the model parent.
Sydney had actually gone so far as to ask her father about what she'd been like in babyhood. He had looked serious and uncomfortable when he answered he didn't recall. He had looked so guilty to admit he'd been busy with work much of that year. She was sure he must remember something, but she didn't press the issue.
She kept to herself in the park, listening to other mothers converse, hoping to hear them reveal something useful. Every once in awhile, someone would notice Taryn and try to strike up a conversation with Sydney.
"What an angel. How old is she?"
"Four months," Sydney responded with a smile.
"Oh, can I hold her?"
Sydney hesitated. Taryn had been fussy all morning and she wasn't sure how the baby would take to a stranger.
"Just for a moment?" the woman pleaded.
"Okay," Sydney whispered.
The woman lifted Taryn, immediately cuddling her close. Taryn grinned and kicked her legs, then reached out and swatted at the woman's curly hair. The woman laughed. "Just darling. Here you go." She lowered Taryn back into Sydney's arms and walked away. I
n several moments, Taryn's face puckered and she began to wail. Sydney placed her back in the stroller, but it took the majority of the walk home before Taryn calmed down again.
Her baby liked a complete stranger better than her. She didn't know what the look on her face had been when she'd returned home, but Vaughn immediately took Taryn and suggested she get some rest.
She felt so powerless. Like nothing in her life was hers to control anymore. She began to wish she had died in the delivery room, because she felt like an intruder in her house. There were the concerned looks Vaughn would give her when she walked into a room where he was interacting with Taryn. He actually began to help her avoid the baby, sending Taryn off for evenings or even overnight so the two of them could have time together alone. He probably thought it was helping, but it only made her wish that they could be together alone more often. The way they had been before Taryn was born. The way they could be had Taryn never been born.
She hated herself for thinking that way. Taryn had been born. There was no way to make her unborn. She could never mention thoughts like that to Vaughn. He'd think she was crazy. He'd probably insist she talked to a doctor. She'd thought through that in her head once. If the doctor didn't lock her up, what if they took the baby? Vaughn would never forgive her for that.
She tried to keep her thoughts more to herself. She'd awaken from nightmares that Taryn was dead, that it was somehow her fault, and hurry to the baby's crib. Taryn would be sleeping so peacefully, and she'd watch her, trying to feel some of that peace. She'd end up in tears, realizing how much she was failing her own child. Taryn deserved to be loved by her own mother. Why couldn't she love her? How could a person barely two feet tall and toothless terrify her more than any mission she'd ever gone on?
What was worse was she could see her plaguing doubts starting to seriously affect her interactions with Taryn. She knew she couldn't keep it inside forever. Not without truly going crazy. But even when she tried to talk about it, she didn't feel any better.
Will bounced the baby on his knee. "I know there's something going on with you, Syd. I just wish I knew what."
She hesitated. She should have known he would notice. She took a deep breath and finally just said it. "Sometimes I just wish she didn't exist. Sometimes I find myself thinking of ways to make that happen, even what I'd tell Vaughn afterwards."
"My goodness, Syd, you haven't--"
"No, of course not." She could see him resisting the urge to check the baby over for bruises.
"I'm going crazy, Will. She slipped under in the bathtub yesterday and for a second I actually thought about not picking her up. That can't be normal..." She stopped, unable to say any more without crying.
Will's horrified look dissipated. "It'll be okay, Syd. You'll be okay, you just need more time to get used to this, to her. I'll help you."
Will thought the best of her. He'd known her for so long. He'd always seen her be able to handle anything. Maybe it wasn't wrong of him to think that she could handle even this. He didn't question her when she'd show up at his house in the middle of the night. She usually didn't stay very long. Sometimes she went to a hotel, or just walked around town. Anything to calm herself. Anything to feel like her world wasn't out of control.
Time began to race by her with only a few things sticking out in her memory enough to haunt her. Another run-in with a mother at the park.
"Stay-at-home-mom?"
She nodded, carefully, forcing a smile.
"Blessed curse, isn't it? You don't miss a minute of her life. But at the end of the day, you just want to kill her."
Sydney decided it was time to go back to work. Taryn was six months old. She knew the decision worried Vaughn, but this time, no one at her job seemed to think it was too soon for her to be back. That she'd had a baby was no longer anything new. No one forced her to talk about it. It was business as usual. And she was able to find a joy in teaching that had been lacking from her life. She welcomed Vaughn's suggestion that they hire a nanny so he could return to work as well.
She felt the nanny was good with Taryn, but Sydney didn't like for the nanny to be there when she was home. The nanny scrutinized her every interaction with Taryn, reminding her of how clueless she was. Sydney apparently dressed Taryn in too many clothes, or fed her too much or too little. Maybe it was guidance she needed. But as she watched her baby grow closer to the nanny, she couldn't take the advice. Even as her own failings became more evident.
Sydney left Taryn alone on a couch for barely a minute to grab the phone, came back to find the baby crying and a bruise forming on her forehead from tumbling off. She'd stood there frozen with the phone in hand, watching the baby cry, wondering how she'd let it happen. And it wasn't her worst mistake.
She would never forget a dinner incident when Taryn was eight months old. They had started letting her try a variety of solid foods. Vaughn had gone into the kitchen to fix himself some seconds. Taryn was in her high chair eating.
"I think we should consider taking a family vacation this summer," Vaughn said from the kitchen.
Sydney looked towards the doorway. "To where?"
"I don't know. Disneyland?" he said with a laugh, emerging from the kitchen. Then, his eyes widened, and dropped his newly refilled plate. "SYDNEY!"
Her eyes immediately went to Taryn, whose brown eyes were wide and watering. Her face was turning red. Her mouth was open but she wasn't making any noise. Sydney stared as Vaughn quickly removed his daughter from the high chair. Thoughts collided in her head. Her baby couldn't breathe. Sydney choked on that thought and then she couldn't breathe. She watched in horror and thought about the two minutes in the delivery room. Taryn couldn't breathe. And she couldn't breathe either.
Vaughn turned the baby downwards and forcefully gave five blows to her back, then turned her over to press on her chest, and checked her mouth to see if the object had come up. He turned her over and gave her another three back blows before there came a cough. He immediately turned her up again as the baby threw up a half of grape and then began scream-crying. He began trying to calm her.
Sydney stood up and moved forward to try and soothe Taryn as well, but Vaughn glared at her. "You should have been watching her!" he snapped, shouting to be heard over Taryn's cries.
"I was watching her," she said, defensively. But not well enough. Because she seemed incable of doing anything properly for Taryn.
"Closely. You have to watch her closely! She could have died, Sydney!"
She had said nothing. She just backed away to let him get Taryn calmed down. She knew he'd just been as frightened as she had been, but it wasn't like he was wrong. Taryn could have died with her sitting right beside her. The thought terrified her too. She went running that night. Running for hours. Until she could barely breathe. Wishing she could run herself to death and somehow make up for all her crimes as a mother.
She had considered never going home again. She wished now that she hadn't. That she had left that night. She didn't need any of the clothes or the things she'd packed. She could have called Vaughn and said goodbye. That would have been the best thing to do. But she'd gone home the next day. Gone home for one more month, for one last try. She couldn't even remember how she'd convinced herself to do it at the time. She only knew one thing.
She'd gone home. And she'd gone insane.
Vaughn didn't question her when she returned as he normally did when she had disappeared for a night. Several times he seemed to start to apologize to her, but she didn't let him finish. She didn't deserve the apology. He gave up. Things were back to the normal Sydney had come to accept. Days at work. Evenings finding ways to avoid Taryn. Nights trying to still have some type of relationship with her husband.
Sleep remained far from relaxing. She'd get up in the middle of the night and move to the couch so not to disturb Vaughn's sleep. She knew she was tossing and turning. She'd wake up crying. The nightmares were back and worse. She dreamt of dying, but not in the delivery room anymore. She dreamt of killing herself. With knives. With guns. With pills. She pictured her funeral. And she pictured Vaughn and Taryn better off without her.
She actually started covertly packing away pieces of her life. But even this action was contradictory. She didn't pack it away as if to give it away. But as if to move it. She didn't want to die. And she didn't want to leave. But she didn't want to feel the way she did. She was tense all the time. Angry with herself all the time. To hear Taryn cry had become nearly unbearable. She couldn't go near her to comfort her. All she wanted to do was break things. She wished there was difficult mission to go on, like when she was in the CIA. Something to do that would give her adrenaline and anger a purpose. Instead, she simply felt like she was waiting to explode. She should have left then.
But she didn't.
It was a chilly Saturday in February. Vaughn had to work. She had decided to clean house. She could have called the nanny to look after Taryn, but she hadn't wanted that woman hovering. It was one day. She thought she could handle it. But Taryn woke up fussy that morning. She took her on a morning walk to try and calm her down. Taryn was good for the walk, but as soon as they returned home, Taryn was fussy again. She wanted to get into everything, and cried as if thoroughly insulted at not being able to play with cords and outlets. She wouldn't eat. Sydney rocked her for an hour and the baby didn't ever actually fall asleep.
She was concerned at first. She checked the baby for signs of illness. But there was no fever. The cries consumed all sounds in the house. Sydney wished she could turn down the volume on her ears. She tried to soothe Taryn with toys and music and television. Taryn's cries got louder. She pushed away as Sydney held her.
Sydney couldn't believe it when she looked at the clock to realize more than two hours had gone by. She was actually considering calling a doctor, but just as she was certain she might need to, Taryn's cries began to subside. Maybe the baby exhausted herself. Sydney rocked her another ten minutes and Taryn went to sleep. Sydney put Taryn in her crib. She finally turned her attention towards cleaning again. Though by then, Sydney also felt exhausted and hungry. She had laid down on the couch, thinking perhaps an hour nap would help.
Her eyes shot open at the sound of scream-crying down the hall. She realized she'd only been lying there twenty minutes. She sat up so quickly, she felt dizzy. Her head ached. What was wrong with Taryn? How could she wake up so soon when she'd been sleeping so soundly?
Sydney dragged herself off the couch, and stumbled down the hallway to Taryn's bedroom. She walked over to the crib. Taryn's face was already red with distress. Her loud cry seemed to be directed right at Sydney. Sydney leaned over the crib, rubbing Taryn's belly, trying to give her some kind of comfort.
"Taryn, it's okay. You're okay," Sydney told the baby. Taryn kicked Sydney's hand away, and flailed her arms, completely angry. "Taryn, you need to calm down," Sydney said more firmly. Her own head ached worse with the cries. Pounded. "Taryn, please...."
Sydney covered the baby's mouth with hand, but it barely muffled the cry. She stepped back and grabbed a soft white pillow from the nearby rocking chair. It covered Taryn's entire head. The crying was muffled, then turned into a cough. Then, it was silent. Completely silent. Almost thirty seconds of wrongful peace.
Sydney stared down at the kicking baby legs and arms pushing from beneath the pillow. Taryn couldn't breathe. The baby couldn't breathe. Sydney couldn't breathe. She pulled away the pillow and dropped it on the floor. Taryn started full blown scream-crying again.
Sydney covered her mouth with her hand to stop a scream of her own. She backed away from the crib, the tears coming down her own face in rivers. She backed all the way out of the nursery, and stumbled down the hallway to the bedroom. One thought replayed in her head over and over.
She'd almost killed her baby. She'd almost killed her baby!
She ripped open her closet door and pulled out a locked wooden box. She took a key from the pocket of a garment in the closet, opened the box and removed a gun. She walked into the bathroom off the bedroom and closed the door. Air went in and out of her in shuddering deep breaths. Her hands trembled. She looked up at herself in the mirror. Her faced was reddened, the tears kept coming.
For the best, she thought, lifting the gun towards her temple. For Taryn. For Vaughn. She turned off the safety, finding solace in the cold metal against her hot face, and pounding head. She shut her eyes, no longer wanting to see herself in the mirror. No longer wanting anything but to be dead where she couldn't hurt anyone anymore. She placed her finger on the trigger.
Taryn's wails from down the hall were the only sound she could hear. Drowning out the sound of her own breathing. Taryn crying in fear, in desperation that someone would hear her, rescue her and make her feel safe again.
Sydney gasped and opened her eyes. She knew what her baby wanted. For perhaps the first time ever, she knew, without guessing, without a doubt, what she needed to do for Taryn. She lowered the gun, stuffing it into the belt of her pants. She walked back into the baby's room. She lifted Taryn, patted her back and placed her in her baby carrier. Sydney frantically ran about the house, clearing the items she hadn't packed before. Removing the few previous packed boxes to the car.
Then, she tucked a blanket around the baby to shield her from the cold, and placed her in the car last. Taryn's cries subsided as soon as the car began to move. She was wide-eyed but silent by the time Sydney reached the CIA rotunda.
The CIA rotunda where Sydney now sat on her bed in a cell. She'd entered the CIA that day trying desperately not to arouse any suspicion. Trying not to give any indication that she'd nearly murdered her child less than an hour before. She looked up at the glass, Will was still looking at her apologetically.
"I just thought you should know, you were missed. Even if no one's willing to say it right now," he said.
She stared at him and crossed her arms.
His blue eyes were so pained. "I know you had your reasons for leaving. Whatever they were, I don't care. I'm just glad you're back. I thought you should, I want you to know that."
He wouldn't say that if he knew the reasons. She watched him seriously. "I think you should go now."
Will stood up. "Alright." He nodded to the guard and the gate began to rise. He didn't move for a moment. "Whether you want to admit it or not, I know you missed her." He didn't wait for a response. He just turned and walked away.
Sydney leaned back on the bed so her back rested up against the cold wall and hugged herself. She closed her eyes and rocked herself ever so slightly.
Sydney parked the car in the parking garage. After recording a message on a pen, she turned and lifted the baby from the carrier. She stared into Taryn's wide brown eyes. She counted her fingers, her toes, and nuzzled her nose. Taryn actually grinned her four-tooth smile and giggled.
Sydney held the baby against her chest and began to whisper in her ear. "I'm sorry, Taryn. I'm so sorry."
Sydney lowered her cheek against her baby's cheek. She ran her hand across the baby's skin and breathed in the smell of her face. She smoothed the baby's silky brown hair.
She pulled the baby back from her chest. She lowered the baby back into her carrier, stuffed her cell phone in the bottom compartment. She walked briskly through the rotunda and straight into Vaughn's office. She placed the pen on his desk, put down the baby carrier in front of the desk and leaned over it. Taryn gripped onto her hair.
"I do love you, Taryn," she whispered. The tears ran down her cheeks again and rained right onto the baby. "I do love you," she said it, again louder. For her benefit as much as her baby's. It felt like the first time she had ever said it. Because it was the first time.
Sydney planted a kiss on the baby's forehead, then pulled back from the carrier so quickly that she ripped her hair free, leaving strands in Taryn's chubby hand.
Then, she stood up. Quickly, she hurried out of the office, afraid if she stayed a moment longer she wouldn't be able to leave. She walked briskly through the rotunda and out the door. Away from Taryn, from Vaughn, from the life of Sydney Bristow. She didn't stop crying the entire drive to the airport.
Sydney stopped rocking and blinked her eyes open.
The tears formed rivers down her cheeks.
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